


To Atone

by IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels



Category: Age of Ultron - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And people in these fucked up pasts, Angst, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bruce counseling skills are amazing, But he should shut the fuck up, Character Growth, Clint feels guilt, Dont read if you self harm, Everybody Hurts, Everyone Needs A Hug, Grieving, Guilty Tony, Hurt/Comfort, I needed to let off angsty feels from seeing AOU, In every form, Mention of fucked up pasts, Natasha is a great bro, Nightmares, Oh bruce comes back btw., On herself, Other, Protective Pepper Potts, Self Harm, Slowly building trust, The scarlet witch is born and shes a badass avenger once she gets her shit together, Tony Has Issues, Unhealthy grieving, Waking nightmares due to wandas powers and extreme guilt., Wanda Needs a Hug, Wanda abuses her powers, Wanda finds herself without Pietro, fuck these tags, hurt Wanda, no really, so much hurt, this is sad af, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels/pseuds/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't have to be angry at them. it was her fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Atone

**Author's Note:**

> This contains some hardcore self harm and angst. Please if this triggers you don't read. It's venting for me and I don't want anyone to be hurt. Please.

They went to America after Ultron. Where else could they have gone? Why did it even matter? Pietro was dead. Wanda took a deep, steadying breath.

Or at least, that what she would have liked it to be. It came out more of a small, wheezy, shuddery breath. There was no one around to hear but it still felt so wrong.  _Because there was no one to hear._

She choked back a sob at the thought.  _'Pietro.'_

She swallowed the lump in her throat as well as she could manage. It was her fault. The Avengers, the rest of them, apologized over and over.

The Captain was the most direct, by default. A quick, patriotic, disgustingly _American_  "I'm sorry for your loss." 

Stark lavished her in gifts and material things that were of no interest without him. Never a formal apology.

The Archer couldn't look her in the eye. Bowed his head and snuck apologetic glances through his lashes.

The Spy gave her space. Even let her keep the jacket. 

And the blonde woman who always dressed so sharply brought her food when she refused to leave her room.

She longed for her brother. To talk to him about the silly Americans and the odd things they do. The Captain wouldn't have to tell her about her loss. Stark wouldn't have to shower her in meaningless things. Perhaps it would've been more fun if he were here. The Archer's guilt was unnecessary. The Spy's treatment toward her was definitely the best. The sharply dressed blonde woman was also nice.

They expect her to be angry. To grieve. To hate them all because her brother was dead. But dead people can't be angry. 

She was dead. Just as sure as he was in the ground, cold and alone. They should have just buried them both together. Just a walking corpse.

She sighed deeply. Her floor of the tower-her floor, not  _their's,_ was so large and empty and desolate. It couldn't be worse.

The computer that was everywhere, Friday, was it? Spoke through the speakers hidden where ever in her room.

"Boss lady, Miss Potts is stepping out of the elevator. Grant her access?"

It was time to eat. What a pointless thing to do now.

"Fine."

The doors to her bedroom slid open smoothly with a soft hiss. The Lady, Potts, strode in with a tray and her signature sound of heels clicking smartly on the floor. She was the image of professional.

"Wanda?" She spoke softly, as if she could possibly understand.

She looked at the woman, hardly focusing on her face as the effort to drag her eyes to the blonde was more than she could handle, let alone actually eat. Why bother? There was no one to have conversation with. To laugh with. To eat for. To live for.

The sob wrenched itself from her throat again, too fast for her to stop it. The Potts woman rushed to her aid.

"Sweety, are yo-"

"I'm fine." She insisted, growling just a bit.

She kept her distance, placed the tray within arms reach, and left. It was clear she was hesitant. Perhaps dealing with Stark has taught her when to leave, even if she is stubborn. 

She waited. Waited so long that she was sure Potts, Pepper, was at least 50 floors away, hardly breathing, unblinking. And then she wept. So long and so hard that she didn't even know she'd fallen asleep until she woke the next morning.

She had a headache. She could hardly see. The voice in the ceiling spooked her when it spoke without warning. "Your vitals show signs of dehydration. Would you like me to send Miss Potts for water and juice?"

"What's the point." Wanda found herself scoffing at the idea. How poposterous that she'd need water.

Friday didn't reply. But Pepper marched in with a gallons worth of bottled water some time later.

She stayed in silence until Wanda began to sip idly, satisfied enough to leave only when an entire bottle had gone over the course of an hour or two. Wanda couldn't be sure. 

The swelling had gone down and the throbbing in her skull had faded to a dull ache. She stood, gathered a change of clothes, just throwing random articles of clothing from drawers, really. She turned on the shower, staring blankly at it for a moment. 'Pietro preferred showers.' He'd always made fun of her for liking baths more after they'd hit puberty.

She hugged herself at that moment, his voice echoing through the throbbing, teasing.

_"Baths are for children." He scoffed._

_"We are children." She allowed herself a small smile as she checked the temperature of the filling tub._

_"No way. Anyone twelve minutes younger than me is a child." He grinned, crossing his arms and cocking his head in that way that always made her feel so much younger than twelve minutes. The way that was so self assured, so dependable and strong and rebellious and above all, so_ him. _'_

Sher resurfaced from the memory with a violent shudder. She felt so cold.

She peeled off her clothes hesitantly; familiar, grimy, and a bittersweet reminder of the last time Pietro had touched her. 

If only she'd known.

She stepped in the shower, the water pressure feeling more like a mild assault than an actual stream. The water pressure back home was a mere trickle in comparison. 

Wanda stood there for what felt like hours as the steam that clouded around threatened to suffocate her. She would let it, if it could reunite them.

"Foolish." She scoffed at herself. 

She'd rather die in a dark alley than on Stark's land. She chose from the collection of soap at random and began to lather it on her washcloth. She washed herself rather mechanically, her body on auto pilot as her mind wandered elsewhere.

Suds and bubbles threatened to tickle her on their way down her frame but she paid it no mind as she clamored around until she'd found shampoo. She began simply enough. Wanda rubbed the foamy solvent into her scalp with gentle fingers, until they weren't. 

Her hair wasn't clean, so she had to scrub harder. Soon scrubbing became a bloody, stinging, red mess. She ripped her hands from her scalp and stared at the bright pink foam. 

The only thought to dawn on Wanda was that her body wasn't clean either. She began the process all over again, clawing at herself with the same maddening fervor.

Faster, faster, harder, she was bloody and frenzied as she gasped and laughed as more of the red appeared under her skin in the shape of her nail's path. Soon her entire body was scarlet, although she couldn't be sure if the cause was because of her attempting to become clean or how hot the water was. She couldn't bring herself to care.

The shower turned off and she stepped out, worlds calmer than she's been in what felt like ages. She threw on her new clothes, and stepped out into the bedroom again.

"Friday told me you went ape shit in the shower. I'm starting to think it was an understatement."

Wanda whirled around to see the Spy, the magic already forming at her finger tips.

"I did not invite you here." She hissed.

"You're right. Friday did." The Spy hummed matter of factly.

"Leave." 

"Not until I know you're going to not go crazy." She took steps toward Wanda.

"Stay back." She warned.

"You wouldn't. Or you would've already." The Spy advanced until finally they were inches apart.

Wanda dropped her hands, but the magic still lingered.

"Do you know my name, Wanda?"

"I don't need to." She spat.

"But you do. You're an Avenger now." 

She scoffed. As if that title meant a damn thing. Where else could she go? Where wouldn't she be a freak? 

"I'm Natasha. And we're part of a team. We get that you're grieving. But at some point you're going to have to move on. You're not the only one that's hurting. And that hurt will never go away. But if you let it consume you, then that's all you'll ever be. Grief. Pain. And loneliness. Is that what you want for yourself?"

"What could you possibly know?" Wanda glared.

Natasha lifted her chin, eyes steely. "Friday, Internet search, key word : "Natalia Romanova" please."

"You got it." The A.I beamed, the only cheerful presence in the room.

Internet searches popped up between the two of them. Wanda gasped, began reading.

Natasha left without a word or sound.

Wanda read. Read for hours. She didn't think she would've cared to have known this much about her, but it was fair. Who says she hadn't done research on them?

She read about the others as well. She understood. She wasn't alone. But that didn't make it easier.

Night had fallen, and she'd made her up her mind. She slept to calm herself and steel her nerves for what will come tomorrow.


End file.
